


Not the Same

by incredulousanteater



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley likes cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Idiots, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Snakes, Snippets, obviously, so does Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incredulousanteater/pseuds/incredulousanteater
Summary: “Well, it’s—” Aziraphale faltered. “What do you mean, freezing? You’re a demon; you don’t have to feel cold if you don’t want to.”“It’s not the same,” was all Crowley offered in explanation, grimacing.Or five times Crowley is more snake than anything else, and Aziraphale finds it rather endearing.





	Not the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope my writing doesn’t suck as much as I believe it does! Exact dates and locations have been avoided here, but they’re all some time before the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, except for the one that explicitly states otherwise. Anyways...enjoy...

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out, for the fourth time since he’d entered the demon’s current place of residence. At least, the demon _told_ him it was his current place of residence, but maybe Aziraphale had made a mistake and it was the next one over…? He shook his head and peered into a room that turned out to be a bedroom. It had been used recently: the covers were disturbed. Aziraphale frowned at the lump of multiple duvets. That many seemed a bit excessive, but to each their own, he supposed. The angel wondered, not for the first time, if this was a trick and if he was wasting his time here. So Aziraphale yelled Crowley’s name one last time. His voice echoed through the otherwise eerily silent corridors of the house that smelled faintly of burnt firewood. No reply. Aziraphale sighed and straightened his coat absently, leaving the way he’d come. 

Bright sunlight spilled over him as he stepped outside, making him squint. A few small birds were startled by his appearance and flew away, chirping shrilly. Aziraphale smiled and breathed in the fresh spring air. It was pleasant out today, especially considering the gloom lately. He began his walk away from the house when a something caught his eye and he had turn around. Curled atop a flat, sun-warmed boulder was a snake. A very _familiar_ snake. Although he was quite a bit smaller now than when Aziraphale had last seen him. Maybe in order to fit on the rock? The angel blinked and marched towards it. 

_“Crowley?”_

The mound of onyx scales opened one yellow eye lazily and regarded the angel with what seemed to be annoyance. 

“What on—what are you _doing_ , Crowley?” 

Crowley began to uncurl himself slowly, revealing flashes of his reddish underbelly. “What’sss it look like, angel?” He grumbled as he slowly shifted into his human form. “Trying to enjoy the sun. Until you came along, anyways.” 

“Oh, yes, it is quite lovely today, isn’t it?” Aziraphale beamed, oblivious to Crowley’s glare. 

“What’re you bothering me for?” The demon got to his feet, somewhat unsteadily after having just been woken up. 

“I believe you owed me lunch?” 

“Oh. Right. I did tell you that, didn’t I?” 

“Yes. And to meet—”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Crowley cut in, pulling the baffled angel away from the sun-bathed garden. 

—

“You really ought to read more often,” Aziraphale scolded as he refilled his wineglass, swaying ever so slightly. 

“If you say so, angel,” Crowley replied, not really paying attention. He took another drink out of his own glass, gaze straying over the cluttered bookshelves. 

“Your flat is so…it’s so…bare. It’s,” Aziraphale paused to find the word he was looking for, “not…it’s not…it’s _unwelcoming_. An’… _lonely_.” 

Crowley was paying attention now. “Nuh,” he protested, eloquently. 

Aziraphale nodded, eyes wide, and nearly spilled the contents of his glass over himself. He leaned against a bookshelf for support. “It’s d—…uh, fo—…” he gave up with a sigh. 

“ _You’re_ messy,” Crowley slurred. “Books n’ things all over.” 

“That,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Some books is y—is what it needs. Warm it up.” 

“My flat’sss fine,” the demon said, then, “Damn,” upon realizing his slip. Aziraphale clutched his now empty glass to his chest, in a fit of giggles. Crowley scowled at him. “Quit that.” 

“I like it,” the angel wheezed out. “It’s rather… _endearing_ …”

Crowley looked even more offended than before, if that was possible. “Ssshut up,” he spat out, and Aziraphale doubled over in a fit of laughter. 

—

It was late, and Aziraphale was settled comfortably on the couch in the back room of his shop, reading. The room was silent save for the rustle of a page being turned every once in a while or a sighing breath from Crowley, who lay sprawled on the very same couch, deeply unconscious. Aziraphale found himself contemplating Crowley yet again. He’d fallen asleep hours ago, and didn’t show any sign of waking. The demon had forgotten to take his sunglasses off, and they had started to slide out of place. Aziraphale turned back to his book, a feeling of contentment filling him. 

It was quickly dashed by a rustling noise from the front. The angel frowned. He was sure he’d hung the CLOSED sign. 

“Aziraphale?” It was Gabriel’s voice. 

Why was _he_ here? Aziraphale put the book down and sprang to his feet, dislodging Crowley, who woke with an irritated grumble. “Could’ve just shook me or something…” 

“ _Shh_ ,” Aziraphale hushed the demon easily.

“Aziraphale, are you here?” Gabriel’s voice was closer now. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged panicked glances.

“Uh…” the demon took in the crowded room, and then, with a shrug and a soft hiss, shrank into a darkly-scaled snake. 

“How does that help?” Aziraphale exclaimed, and froze at the sound of a floorboard creaking, alarmingly close. The angel grabbed Crowley (who let out a startled _sss_ ) and draped him around his neck without a second thought, then reached for the scarf he’d neglected to hang on the coat rack earlier, dangling precariously over the edge of a bookshelf. Gabriel entered the room just as Aziraphale tossed it on.  
“Sorry, you caught me in the middle of…” Aziraphale snatched up the book and held it aloft like a prize. “Reading. Hum—”

“Yes,” Gabriel waved him off, clearly uninterested. “How are things, Aziraphale?” 

“Oh, wonderful! Yes, I’m…everything is fine,” the angel babbled. “Why? Is—something’s wrong?” 

“No, no…” Gabriel’s attention turned to the set of empty whiskey tumblers that Aziraphale and Crowley had drunk from earlier that evening. The angel’s breath caught in his throat as the archangel picked one up and inspected it, and the snake pressed closer to him comfortingly underneath the scarf. “No, nothing’s wrong,” Gabriel informed him, setting the glass down. “Just checking up, you know. Well, if everything’s in order…” 

“It is,” Aziraphale said, maybe a little too quickly. 

“Guess I’ll head out, then,” Gabriel replied after a pause, and didn’t waste any time in leaving. Aziraphale let out a deep breath of relief, the tension draining from his body. He pulled the scarf off and Crowley let out a noise that might’ve been a laugh. 

“Y’know I wasss jussst going to hide under the couch or sssomething,” he rasped. “Although I’m flattered you think I make a good ssscarf.” 

“I…oh,” was all the flustered angel muttered, then reached gingerly for the demon coiled on his shoulders. Crowley shied away from his grasp. “Gabriel’s not coming back,” Aziraphale said. “It’s safe to…erm, get off, if you want.” 

“No…I think I’ll ssstay. Sss’warm.” Aziraphale felt a heat in his cheeks and sat on the couch wordlessly, careful not to disturb Crowley. 

“Right,” he murmured to himself. “That’s that, then.” After a moment of processing, he opened the book again, and read uninterrupted for the rest of the night. 

—

“I just love this weather,” Aziraphale sighed happily from his spot on the park bench, and took another sip of the cocoa he’d bought off a street vendor. It wasn’t really the best he’d ever had, but nothing could dampen his mood right now. He stared at the frozen landscape around him, a fresh coating of snow on everything. The air was crisp and cool, and the sun set the powdery white covering glimmering cheerfully. 

“What for?” Crowley groused, shaking snow off his boot disgustedly. “Stupid ice everywhere, and it’s bloody freezing.” 

“Well, it’s—” Aziraphale faltered. “What do you mean, freezing? You’re a demon; you don’t have to feel cold if you don’t want to.” 

“It’s not the same,” was all Crowley offered in explanation, grimacing. 

“And you’re not exactly dressed for it,” Aziraphale added. No response. After some hesitation, the angel scooted closer to Crowley’s side of the bench. The demon leaned into him and made a show of shivering violently. Aziraphale cast about nervously before slinking an arm over Crowley’s shoulders. He pretended not to take notice of the demon’s smirk.

“On second thought,” Crowley said, golden eyes flashing mischievously behind dark lenses, “Maybe it’s not so bad, after all. Snow’s kind of pretty.” 

—

It was perfectly reasonable for Aziraphale to be worried. Three days after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and its subsequent events, he hadn’t heard a word from Crowley. Which would have been normal _before,_ but…well, this was _now_ , simple as that, and Aziraphale was worried. Even more concerning, when he reached the demon’s flat, everything was unlocked, allowing him to walk right inside. He felt like an intruder as he tiptoed through the sparsely furnished space. Nothing seemed disturbed. Not that there was much _to_ disturb.

Several awful scenarios flashed through Aziraphale’s mind, each more unlikely than the last. He found his way to a door that was closed most of the way, and swung it open with a flourish. The room was dark, the light spilling in from the doorway not much help, but Aziraphale could make out a few details. There was a bed inside, with a heap of comforters on it that rose and fell rhythmically, like—oh. Aziraphale suddenly felt very, very awkward. He’d obviously overreacted, and now here he was, standing uninvited in Crowley’s bedroom. The angel started to back up as quietly as he could, planning on a prompt exit. No need for Crowley to know about his blunder…

“Who’s that?” A sleep addled growl came from underneath the mountain of blankets, and a ruffled-looking Crowley popped up from the midst of them. “Aziraphale?” He asked, a note of incredulity to his tone. The angel stood frozen in the doorway. “What…erm…” He swept a couple blankets off himself, a fair few finding their way to the floor. 

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said, and rushed forward to put them back. “I’m sorry, Crowley, I just…” he looked on helplessly as the demon shoved the blankets away a second time and sat up with a luxurious stretch. “I didn’t mean to bother you…” 

“Bit odd you’re standing in my bedroom, then,” Crowley replied with a blink of his yellow eyes. 

“I got worried,” Aziraphale tried to explain, not expecting the way the demon’s expression softened.

“Ah.” When he stood, Crowley was dressed in his everyday clothes again. Aziraphale followed him through the doorway and into the brighter hall. 

“And…Crowley?” 

“Mm?” The demon was fixated on his plants. 

“Why do you have so many blankets?” Barring miracles, the flat was at an appropriate temperature, and Aziraphale knew that it had a heating system if that wasn’t the case. 

“I don’t know.” Crowley looked like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “It feels…safe?” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale didn’t quite understand the appeal of burrowing beneath a pile of blankets to feel _safe._ “Rather like a snake, isn’t it?”

Crowley’s answering glower was worth it.

—

_Bonus:_

“Can we _go_ already, angel?” 

“One moment,” Aziraphale answered, engrossed in the text on his desk. Behind him, Crowley flopped onto the couch dramatically with a long-suffering sigh. Aziraphale ignored it. Crowley could stand to be patient once in a while. He translated another line of text carefully, grinning. Last one…for the time being, at least. There were still a good three hundred pages left over for later tonight, but for now, he had a bored demon on his hands. He leapt up abruptly, turning to Crowley.

“All rig—er.” 

Crowley’s slitted pupils had blown up by twice their normal size, becoming rounded black disks that nearly overcame the yellow of his irises. The demon reddened furiously as he scrambled to look away. He fumbled for his sunglasses, quickly shoving them on and mumbling, “You—you startled me, is all…jumping up out of nowhere…like a bloody…” 

Aziraphale hadn’t quite recovered either, unable to hide his amused grin. “Shall we get on, my dear?” He suggested brightly. 

“Yes! Yes,” Crowley said and swept past Aziraphale. He didn’t glance backwards as he snapped, “And stop smiling!”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I did with comments and kudos!


End file.
